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.....