Hands

These hands are footprints of an x ray sketch,
which has viewed the inside hollow of the sorrow,
with no more dead skin than in my borough,
birds and horses have been fetched,
without reason and not for wanting something else, 
hands up, bastard, you're gonna quench my thirst,
bloody nonsense, it's for something else,
slashed dash, smooth soothe,
smile at the smile, I can see it from a mile,
incredulity at your eyes,
the lips towards its final destination,
book of lotsense in modification...