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.....