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.....