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.....