I write poetry for the soul of the poet and the scientist. I also read many books and paint many things.

by on

My hopes are as follows:

  • That you’ve achieved your goals.
    • (because then I’ll know it wasn’t all for nothing that we let it all go.)
  • That you never see this.
    • (because then I’ll know you still read my poems.)
  • That you’ve found someone who loves you.
    • (because you’ve chosen to travel a lonely road doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone.)
  • That if you do read these poems, that you’re happy for me.
    • (because moving on wasn’t easy, but that’s a fact that I never wanted you to know.)

Love,
*six pm

by on

    ..           ..        ….             …               …          ….   …….        … ….

                ∘

          .

he smiled and assured me
i wouldn’t feel a thing…      ○
                                        •

                         °
                            .○
marines are the worst, 
they don’t get atta °ched. 
                                         °
                                     °.
they un-sentimentally.    ○ 
              °                pack
                   :     °     and are whisked  a w a y…

                       •          °
 °    will-o’-wisp.    ○
licking wounds w.
flash fire tongues…

sometimes i don’t follow . 
                                             .     
                                             .
       even my own wisdom.

sometimes i don’t 
even follow  .   ° 
                     my own.     .         °
                                                            •     d
                                                                •.    r 
                                                                            e
                                                                   ○
                                                                      a  °             •
                                                              m 
                                                        s        °    
                                                      .         ○
                                       °    
                                   ○
                                     °    
                             :

                                  ○    
                                      •

                   like  that   reoccurring  one 
                          when i chase a trail
                            of  meteorite dust
                                 directly to
                                     your
                                     door
                                       :
                                      .
                                    every
                                     time,
                                 i hold the
                             burning embers
                      in my palm. Sometimes,
                   a flicker of the flame  catches 
            and burns down everything i own.
                                  .  

                                         .

                                        d   u   s   k .  .  .          n

                                                                          ↟

                                     .
                    .

earth quakes
& i give way.

           °                                                    yesterday the sun set after
                                                                 the 7 o’clock hour
                                                                 for the last time this year.
                       •                                          7 is a lucky number.
                         ○
                                
                                                                                                                          e↠   (maybe i should call you later)
                                 

                                       °                         in about 3 hours the
                                 ○                              sun will set on your side.
(by your side) ↞w
                                                °
                                            : 
To be beside you again
sounds as distant
and above me                 . 
as a slice of heaven.          •

My cheek against                    °
the suede of              ○.
your soft stomach fuzz.   •
I want to place my head
on your shoulder again.             ○
 

                                           •       i love you, more than friends.
                                                   (i couldn’t stop you if i wanted to)
                                                    i love you, *omitted.
                                        ○        (the walls shift in unnatural ways)
                                   .
                                   °•
                                                  i wanted you to stay.
                                           °      (every time i hear your name)
                                                   i love you so much
                                       • .       i will stand here
                                           ○      watch you shrink away.

because you deserve
sunsets in california.
you deserve
a stunning woman,
her perfect smile,
in a romantic place.             °

                                                ○
one who didn’t sell herself
short of her dreams.
you deserve to                  °
lose your breath,
youth, freedom,
and to exceed                    .
every expectation…             °

                                        ○
you deserve better than me.
no exceptions.  

 *six pm

by on

O.

i had just read a brief history of time. remember that night? cosmic vertigo took hold of my insides, i quit cigarettes that instant, i crushed my last pack and i declared, to you, that death takes everything.
stephen hawking explained: the universe will have an end just as it has a beginning. so having no more time to waste i told you i loved your face more than any other faces and if there was to be even the tiniest trace of me left behind i wanted it to be the way i felt for you that night.

you blew smoke rings from stitched lips, and i talked in circles around you. bleary and bloodshot our eyes closed. you maybe never read stephen hawking but i know we both ran like bandits from sleep.

I.

earthy smell of marijuana permeated your beard and seasoned our tongues. *omitted, wasn’t it really something? being young and together the way we were. smoke stacked to the ceiling and the lamp glow casted halogen haloes around our heads. don’t you agree how.

ii.

*darling, i love you so desperately, when i gaze upon your full moon face i feel the spread of my pupils pulling wide, letting in too much of your angelic light. i embrace the pressure of your body’s presence compressing the very fabric of my marrow as you contort me to your will.

though i don’t dare profess that your tender love, the love only i know, the love that when lost inspired so many insipid diary notes, has ever mended a single bone, yet somehow with one kiss, your touch heals my entire soul; fills the emptiness that swells my chest as if my heart had never broke.

3.

though my brain wanders like tidal waves towards you and my limbs crash like the branches of trees, as today my fingers grasp the empty, missing your touch like the winter misses spring leaves. i know, we were a season, and there is a whole life left ahead for us to live alone.

still the movements of time and her changing seasons, this bitter wisdom that has come from age and grace, nor these emotions that crash like waves cannot keep me from reminiscing so sweetly how we spent entire days and nights: undressed, wearing only bedspreads, spread across one another; how the always sun came up too soon…

*darling, i want more time with you.
.

.
*six pm

by on
Disney’s Aladdin circa 1992

When cast upon the barren terrain of loneliness I’ve crafted many castles and shrines to give shape to this flat land. Worshiping Him who merely crossed but did not root.


Every smirk; a sunrise scattering blue light and casting a golden warmth upon my empty sand. I was a sponge; I absorbed every ray of His light and when His star set, I began to pray facing West. I was left alone in the dark with shadows and shapes of the towers looming unoccupied.


To preoccupy myself from the daunting empty and the always alone I painted murals and gilded each shrine with gold. I went hungry to leave rice cakes and fruits at His altar— hoping to lure Him into the home I’d created and love me again for the art I’d devoted to His likenesses and name.


Each note upon which I’d wrote became a poem, became a notebook, became a grimoire full of morbid canticles. Much like space my loneliness spreads infinitely, as vibration and blue songs, as if willing its way towards forever seeking the edge and an end.


Every red candle burned brightly not to satiate the darkness; but as prayers to cast beacons across the liquid night and beckon back His ghostly glow.


If He’d rose again and become my sun, daring only I stare into His deadly radiation I’d have gladly looked boldly until falling blind; so blindly did I seek to feel the embrace of love when I was empty and there was none. –six pm

by on

i.

 ◍
the night came early the day you died. and the winter soaked into the tail end tides of fall. never not… autumn was a comfort and a warning. november was a time of changing times.. portal opens and we are born, your daughters, and you, our mother, would disappear… never not the body in blue morgue… nevertheless… mother’s kiss gentle as the wind blows and whisks gently swaying kitten whiskers and hums and purrs.
 

ii.
                             ◑
a new black chapter and a funeral. never not… alone and anew… never not my family, drowning out the white noise recorder left beside your pillow listening for your spirit. never not… two daughters, darlings distraught, arrested in the same spot the ghost of you rests… straight desire, straight razor seriously… never not; a makeshift ouija board, maybe, made up of your makeup… never not wake up wrapped in blankets; the cold is too strong and the dark is too long… your wake is tomorrow. you were yesterday. i ruin now. this hurt feels eternal.
 

iii.

                                                        ◯
nevertheless… winter encroaches; branches bare scraping at milk light moon white… never not… daylight savings saved nothing at all.. never not… death be at my side; the space where you sat beside me… i studied time and wasted all that was left with you.
 

iv.
                                                                                ◐
i want to set out like the autumn soaked in bitter blowing the crispness crippling crunch of back breaking cracked leaf; forgive me for not skipping over them. forgive me the frogs i kissed while not sitting beside and being kind to you… never not leave this empty season; leave life behind; follow you into the night; become milk white.. never not.. starlight collapses into blackhole magnetic and swallow me… never so.
 

v.
                                                                                                            ∗   ◌
always still… i could never unkiss you… never would… never not… i would never. i can never love you less.. never lose the moments of kindness we crossed like chests… never not hope to die… never not my heart beat the same. never not see a woman who… looks just like you… and not call her your name. never not… just in case. branch crushes window panes… glass shatters… never over you… never forget your empty space… forget you not …never forget you forever. AMEN. -six pm

by on

⊹ 　　　
　 *                                ­                    *                               ⊹
　 *
·　⊹ 
Ȋ̸̛̩̩̞̘̻̫̫͐̀ ̷͎̥̬͔͑̂̄́̈́͝͝h̶̛̪̣͇̩̏͑̂̋̎a̵̟͔̹̟̰̤̐̇͊v̶̡̛̪̯̙̱̞̝̞̝̹̂͆́̊́̄͛e̷̹̤͉͝ ̴̨̧̡̛͚͇̝̰̬͖͛̒̈͂̔͘͝ñ̵̼̻͇̀̑͛̏ͅě̸̘̓́̽̋̑͗͠v̴͇͍̖͈̰͙̬̘̻͚̈ȇ̴̦̄͒͘r̷̮̼̰̩͕̟̮̤͗ ̵̡̙̤̣̙̖̟͚͊̂̆ͅȧ̸̡̡̢̛̳̦͚̕v̸̜̘̦̱͙̹̳̲̱̄̈̒̀͝e̸̡͚̗̣͇̹̾̆̍͋̌n̷̢͔͈̠̘̓g̴͎̦͉̉̓͗̕e̵̢̟̩̣͙͙̐͗̄̂͒ḋ̸̳͉͖͖͇̰̠̥̲̇̍̏͛͘͜͠ ̷̛̺̦̯̩̪͌́̉̌̿̉͐m̵̪̓͠y̴̱͍̆̍̂̂̾͋͘s̷̱͕̰̞̳͕͙̱̼͆̅̃̌͠ę̷͚̤̙͓͈̹̺̲̖͑̂̈́͑̄̅͑͋̎͠l̵̝̞̣͉̃͑̍̎f̸͈̞͇͒́̈͛̈́͌̌̾.̷̨̤͙̲̬̬̩͆̃ ̶̻̣͍̂̆̀͝I̴̧̳̤͑̐ ̷̨̘͑̽͝͝ͅl̶̨̙̤͈̲̗̽̂̀͌͌̐̉͂͘ȩ̶̛̛͓͕̻͔̳̳̭̙̐͊̓͝͝͠a̸͙͖̖̋̔̽̏͠ͅv̴̧̛͕͔̀̄̈́̏͝ẹ̷͍̰̟̫̣̤̏̾̇͐́̃̈́̑ ̴̨͕͆í̴̢̧̙̠̥̩̫̇́̂̀͐̕t̵̛̮̝̄̓̀̓͘͜ ̸͖̠̰̯̏̈̈́͜t̷̢̤̭̺͖͒͗ò̵̢̪͇͂͋̔ ̷̡̛̗̫͍̼̈́̇̾̒͘t̶̢̢̬̗̦̹̠̣͈͌̄̈́̕h̴̽͘ͅę̴̯̍̈́͂̓̆ ̶̢̛̪͌͌̿̿͂͑͊̎w̵͇̲̜͉͎̟̳͒͒̂͌r̸̝̫̲̠̼̠̣̱̈́̈́̾ạ̶͉̠̩͎͈̈́̅͒͆͒̾̂̾̐t̴̼̻̳̣͊h̸͉͇̭̲̣̏͛ ̸̠̮̤͙̻̈́̒̀͂́́̇̉ó̴̮̺̔͑̀͑̉f̸̞̈́͌͊̈́͌̈́ ̸̬̜͙͕̏͂̎́͒͆͠G̵̠̱͚̳͊͆̆ǫ̶̻͈̞̆̐͆̚̚͝d̶͓̏.̶̧̘̣͈̪̞̩̭̱͋͂̓́͜

                                            　 * ·　　　　　　· ˚
　 ✧
⁕                                                    
.

·

　　　　　　             · ˚          .
                                          ⁕                              ­                                 
        .


i propose that fate is not the ¹⁰¹⁰⁰¹ :
opposite of choice; * . •
if fate, choice, ° . .
form a triumvirate of cause
and effect. :
nestled beneath . * •
every pin feather
of chance. . °

·　　　　　　             · ˚          .
                                          ⁕                              ­                                 

in this i avenge myself . •
and sacrifice evey word i wrote .
to the wrath of *♡. ; • .

even in being as odd as I AM. . .
a living (by) breathing . •. . ° . ;
example of peculiarities: contrary things
○:□, all manner of art. (♡-He) . : .
so perfectly; perfect opposites–He asked me:

·　　　　　　             · ˚          .
                    .                      ⁕            .                  . ­                                 

“what have you cut off of your flesh,
lately?” ·　　　　　　 · ˚ .

So i confessed
to dumbing down the equations
so that every man could understand them.
i confessed in flesh my weakness
having wanted to be seen. (el roi)

        · ˚          . ○ . .
             .                             ⁕                               ­       •                .          
. . ° .

and He hardened your ♡–so the
anointing would be crystal. : * .

when the new words come before you
when you open up my vision. •. *

⊹ . . . . .
    🪐   •     . 
   . *  　　　　　　· ˚
            . °.   ✷
     .

it was not coincidence * . ° .
when *♡ called me by name a number. :
it is how fate is not the ¹⁰¹⁰⁰¹
opposite of choice; • . . *
i know now that fate, choice, .• .
form a triumvirate of cause . ○ • . . .
and effect . . , . . * .
nestled beneath. . . •.
every pin feather • . °
of destiny. ; .

⊹

   *  　　　　　　· ˚
              ✷ .
“you must work six days to reap the blessings of the seventh,” He told me…

He told me…

He told me… ∞. . .

♡ six pm

(*inspired by sermon: Anointed for the Altercation by T.D. Jakes, and God♡♡♡)

by on

♡ = complete with handmade art

This collection is handmade from cover to cover. I hand-bind, pick the paper, and can even personailize the poetry.

         .•                           
  ✧ 　　.
he-art (a broken heart) = just the words + text art only
.     ✦

   *  　　　.　　●　· ˚
             ⛈    .               

This collection will be a standard book, with text art that I am known for, and will be available at a set, affordable price. And available for immediate printing.

*Pre-order a fully painted poetry book by emailing me: Paige6@by6pm.art ♥︎

*Love,

the always imitated, never duplicated—

*♡Paige

by on

Tuesday we close on our new home. School is going well, however I’m considering transferring to a new school that’s closer to our home. My driving knowledge test is on the 18th. — and there’s more tba soon!

Please keep my family in your prayers. – ♡paige