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.....