As to Flesh we are bonded by our Desires.
As to Greed we are Led Astray to ignore our most needed inhibitions.
As to Life we are Projected among the Ever Persistent.

Within our Golden Thrones deep in our conscious lay the Duke of Death,
his arms laden by golden strings of unseen affluence,
eyes somber and warm gushing the utmost respect for your own inclination.
But ever so often,
often near an end,
opens his eyes,
farther than what his likeness would want you to see,
into a swirl of binary imprisonment
seen within the truely dull and cracked interior
laced with ribbons of gold extending to his arms
now in grasp of yours.