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.....