Anthony

              He looked into a dead city of bones . Smoked as he lit .  Don't force it , mellow audacity say besides me .

My constant rocking , writing blindly hoping , errors turn to treasure bays .

His amber brown eyes hauled over the hills . Olive brown skin kissed his olive green shirt . Paradox clothed over his heart . Rebel isolation, for his own good . 

He would rise again . Not a care in the world . For he had a nation around him . 

Before time expired . This city of dead bones will come back to life.