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.....