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.....