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.....