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.....