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.....