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.....