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.....