The Twelve Hour Trip

The cactus came on slow but strong. Cuckoo clocks and winding hallways. The dark alleyways and branch-like tentacles circled back on themselves in loops of novelty. It kept saying "Come deeper" and I followed the call. At hour 4 I said "no more" as it all became too much as it spilled out endless secrets. But it never listened, and I was never the same again. I was the man who knew too much.