S̶e̶r̶i̶e̶s̶ ̶F̶i̶n̶a̶l̶e̶

cold water to the face invigorates

your next role.

box cars, all containing secrets

of how you became a punchline

and how you won't be the last laugh.

mirrors only remind you

of a script in desperate need of

refinement.

quick, look away!

peering into stranded eyes

may draw you into a

self-spiraling binge...

*

dry your hands and exit the lavatory...

discard all prescribed solutions; opiates are the real imposter...

lock all the doors in your mind, trapping every untrustworthy thought...

power on the espresso machine; indulge the scent of urgency...

quarantine yourself from the tendency to care; sentiment is only there for the raving reviews...

pour three fingers of liquid courage over ice and set aside...

walk to the master bedroom that hasn't been slept in since discovering the heavy cost of truth...

pack a small bag without being too particular about wardrobe etiquette...

shred all photos except that one of you from the last time you were happy — place in your back pocket...

quit wondering who will be first to notice you're gone; their critiques conspire to disparage...

reset your mind to factory settings, erasing all forms of illusion...

project into a secluded future that doesn't involve being anywhere near life’s casting calls...

bypass the want for last looks or reminiscing; possessions don't care or make you whole...

now, grab the iced courage and consume every drop, appreciate the burn as it dismantles an inkling to regress...

And remember, to leave your favorite light on so neighbors won't assume a suspicious narrative...

time to exist in a frame where the arc is no longer important...

walk to the front door—

open it—

walk through—

inhale the freeing, night air

feel your bones decompress

with every justifiable step,

increasing the distance between

encore and grief...

denouement complete—

roll credits...