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.....