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.....