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.....