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.....