Two Guardians

My words were sent underground to where the toggle switch detonates. That was the glare our voices were avoiding. There was something also broken about the obedience of this retainer. The arcades weren’t semaphores just because the arrows leading there facilitated those of us in line as though reliant on east or west quadrants. The ticket master was prone to elide requests from the travelers, the sliding doors sounded a fanfare for the common man, get faster as thought, or mind the gaps. What I infer can never altogether establish a space adequate to the body count. The platform motivates two guardians who were instructed in safekeeping to usher me from harm’s way but my stand point so recedes from this tableaux as to acknowledge a footprint perspective. Translucent envelope inside remaindered by the riptide or such tunnel vision as to warrant arrest. Why I was sent to the nether world inflicted with no wound. Someone lets fall a pair of zip locks containing the pixie sticks of this conspiracy; what I had to say was sent, I mentioned this I think already, underground switch and toggle intended to ignite what I could never bring myself to mean. Where the voices were avoiding me—hands outstretched at quarter day to hold back the beam—was there something broken? I weather compliant. I rally.