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.....