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.....