full of empty

 The colors of fall fell from his eyes in disappointment, drops of fire. Burning flames that sat in the pit of his stomache and burned through his chest, coarsed through his veins. His soul now flowed out through his finger tips escaping his body all together. Life was not real, the sky no longer blue, there was no grass on the other side to even appear greener. He found happieness at the bottom of a bottle, and love from smoke sitting in his lungs to weigh him down. Without this love he would disappear, float off into the unknown. He was no longer real, and his cries became laughs, jokes filled with empty lonely humor. Sarcasm slipped off of his tongue as easy as his hands used to slip across her bare skin. Without hesitation he spat hateful words, as if trying to rid himself of all the sadness. There was a dark storm that swept through his empty being and those last days turned every risk into a joke.