the  spire             
  
  once upon a time, there was a     
  benevolent spire,  towering well  
  above our tallest trees.  it was  
  clad in white scales, and shaped  
         liked  a  mushroom.        
       we  loved  it  dearly.       
  
   it predated  us by  many years,  
  and we did not know its original  
   builders.  they  had  used its   
   hollow body  for  many  strange  
  purposes -  a womblike  place of  
   gestation,  a storage of strage  
  fluids, a temple to some kind of  
     arcane    deity.               
  
   we  were   grateful  for  its    
   presence, and  honored  it  the  
   only  way  we   knew  how:  by   
         breaking        in.        
  
                                          
                                          
  
  this  place  we called our city:  
  wavy  and fractured,  with each   
  courtyard on a different height,  
   roads  becoming roofs becoming   
  drains. and some  places,  like   
  the spire, nobody  had  accessed  
   for many years. once  its walls  
   are just  too  high,  and  the   
  internal routes to labyrinthine,  
  a place  among others  is easily  
             overlooked.            
  
  so, basically, that summer  the   
  four of us snuck and climbed and  
  crawled for weeks, searching for  
  a secluded place to do drugs and  
  play  music  on our handhelds.    
   instead  we found  vast  lungs   
   drained  of   their  catalyst    
  sludge, and a  birds-eye view to  
  make  sense of our roamings  for  
          years  to   come.         
  
   a  central  spine, a staircase   
   around it,  the seven toroidal   
   lungs stacked outside,  and the  
  control room on top. the sockets  
  for its eyes. the smaller spires  
    for  radiating  consciousness   
            invitations.            
  
                                          
  
  in twenty fourteen, the tower is  
  toppled  and eaten  by machines.  
  after a while,  something new is  
  conjured  in its  place. it's  a  
  tiny maw at  first, shorter than  
   us,  and  we let  it  be.  our   
  journeys still end  at its feet.  
  
  but then we are  betrayed.  the   
   new tower  eats us. others  are  
  sucked inside. new buildings are  
   manifested overnight,  only to   
   disappear  in the evening  fog.  
  for  a  while its some  kind of   
  timeshare scam. goons are placed  
   outside, and we get beaten up a  
   few  times,  and  stop  going.   
  
   iirc  it's currently  owned by   
  some energy drink baron who uses  
  it  to hold all his fourty eight  
              cars.....