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.....