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.....