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.....