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.....