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.....