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.....