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.....