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.....