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.....