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.....