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.....