"Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don't be sorry."
That's what Kerouac said,
and it's a good way to live too
for a while.
But no one can keep going like that forever.
Being sincere is like running full speed,
you can only keep going for so long
until you give out.
Then your legs start to grind
your lungs dry
and you have to drag your pathetic, heaving body off the path
where no one else can see.
at those times
pack your sorry ass to the bar
and in dim light
consult Bukowski and the deepness of a cup.
Who knows what you'll find in there?
Maybe you'll find yourself;
maybe you'll find the illusion.
If you find the illusion, don't be disappointed.
As Bukowski said,
in the end
the illusion's all you'll miss.
In the end
is the only thing
worth fighting for.