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.....