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.....