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.....