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.....