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.....