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.....