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.....