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.....