Plain Speaking

I do not understand:
When a pronoun is used before the noun is stated.
"There is so much stuff going on. Things are getting too much"
When time is not set within margins.
" I will tell you later."
When a place is not specified.
"Let's go for a walk."

I can't see the point of:
The tribal bonding of banal small talk.
"Oh how terrible for you.
You are such a nice person for not getting too upset.
Oh I couldn't have coped ...blah blah blah"

I do like it when someone looks at me,
And talks to me earnestly.

Is that so weird ?

The Painting

I see the image in my mind's eye.
And put it onto the clean canvas.
My pencil strokes mark the outlines,
Keep the perspective true.
The portrait is for my friend.
She is naked in her vulnerability .
I place her chicken arms into a boxer's pose.
Her skinny leg is placed on the head of her assailant.
Her gaze penetrating and her hair crazy-free.
In contrast my friends self-portrait is dark.
Her cyclops eye is staring in disbelief,
Her body compartmentalised into broken pieces.
This is how she is now.
My portrait,
Is how I want her to be.

It's in the eyes.

I watch people's mouths.
(Apparently an Aspergian trait)
The way they form each syllable.
Each hesitation,
Curve of the lip,
Exhalation of air,
Secret smile.
It's mostly there.

Words.
Now those are things you cannot trust.
The tone,
And the undertones.
What is actually said,
And what is revealed,
By what is not said.
No you cannot trust the words.

The mouth and even sometimes,
Well quite often actually,
The language of the body,
The movement and placement of limbs,
The stance,
The little mannerisms,
Yes it is almost there too.

But the place it exists with all its passion,
Fear, ecstasy, hatred, disdain, sympathy, longing,
Disgust, cruelty, frivolity, empathy, joy, despair,
Anger, hope, envy, lust, indolence, confusion,
Sadness, pity.....
And love
Is in truth revealed by a person's eyes.

When truth hurts too much

It's in the eyes...
The truth.
The words are a cover.
They lie or more likely refuse to say.
The body too,
Flinches and gives away only a little.
But it is in the eyes.
The longing,
The resignation,
The flickers of hope.
The despair.
When the truth hurts too much,
That is when you turn your eyes away.

Frustrating Conversations

Small talk,
I loathe the incessant amount of meaningless twaddle that pours on me.
But I am odd, I know it.
I observe others.
They appear to understand hidden meanings,
That must be there,
In gesture, tone of voice, stance and
Every subtle movement,
That makes up the language of the body.
I don't get it.
I hear words like 'good' and 'things' and 'nice'.
No REAL information!

"How was your journey?"
" Good!"
" That's nice."
"Yes, we managed to get things done."
" Oh good"
" Well it's been good catching up on your news. Have a nice day."

Oh yuck, get me a bucket!