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.....