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.....