Drifter

seeking attention from gods who are either false or opaque

I am enthralled by fractures set off by the messes I make

banished to the outskirts of town finally I have found my place

outlawed to construct facades using some sympathy constraints

I stayed up all night brewing, yet I'm not surprised I’m still awake

there are humans who need me who have been cast aside and displaced

and an urgent matter of supply, mandates need to make haste

before I start to grasp at straws like a brute then tend to my aches

who am I, you ask? a drifter, a merchant,

a salesman in a suit with glass bottles obtained from a snake