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.....