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.....