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.....