Bliss always seems to come when its sunny,
except when its raining.

It's slowly washing the dishes on Sunday morning in perfect white light,
thinking of fuck all.

It's that point 6 hours down a track right before the final climb to food and beer
and 700 metres of agony and self-hatred.

It's sitting on a bus at the exact point you get that song you're listening to for the third time,
vibrations travelling through the window and up your cheek.



It happens to me often when I'm drunk or hungover



It's talking about impossible futures with someone you barely know

It's your friends,
lets say they're drunk sprinting through 200m of bush to bleeding and exhausted reach a clearing where the sky over the city was a painted backdrop
no seriously look its like fucking Renoir.

It's sitting on the shore of lake Brunner grinding your teeth and pushing your fingers through the gravel,
the sky over the mountains a badly photoshopped postcard

It's the gratitude of nine drunk people for 4am pasta,
all of them with their own reasons to hate you but none doing so because we are all of us immaculate fuck ups
all of us people
us monkeys in our boredom and our vanity




It's us curled under white sheets
wrapped in immaculate headaches mutual sympathy and love
nothing in our future but sex and breakfast.

It's standing naked in your grandma's bathroom, staring in the mirror with my arms wrapped around under your breasts,
we talk about our punnet squares.

It's me biking and not feeling agony in my  thighs and realising for the first time since you left I felt ok



Bliss is ill defined and temporal and it flows away even as you look at it

Some people think its letting go but I wonder if thats bullshit

It's in endorphins and serotonin and the floating liquid equilibrium of your brain

It's tied to all the boring abstract bullshit that we have to live our lives by

But if you live your life for human bullshit, and give yourself space to love

you will feel bliss