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.....