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.....