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.....