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.....