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.....