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.....