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.....