Where do we go when the lights go down
what do we do in the dark
when there's nowhere to go
and nowhere to play
save for monsters in our heads.

don't turn the lights on baby,
don't turn the lights on now,
the nights not over
and i'm not ready
for you to see me
while I'm playing with
monsters in my head.

look away dear
please hear me now
I'm not always like this
not always not like this
please
don't ask me to change
I don't know what i'd
leave behind anyways.

who am I
who am I to you
who are you to know (that)
what you think is true.

I guess I am just what you made me
what you parade me 'round to be
but after dark
when the lights go down
and there's nowhere to go
and there's no one to play
'cept the monsters in my head...

...do I feel at home,
with the
cold
sweats
shivers
fingernails in my neck

the eyes that are watching see me at my best
the voices tell me (that) it's somebody's worst.
-still,
tough love is true love and no one pushes harder,
the monsters are the only ones who push me to be better.

don't turn the lights on baby
don't turn the lights on now,
the night's not over
and i'm not ready
for you to see me
while i'm still working on
just who
I really am.

---

Cause i'm a monster baby
a monster now
turn the lights on if you want to
I'll cast a shadow down

you'd better be ready
for what you're 'bout to see though,
the voice in your head
is only faceless in shadow

(if) you wanna see your fears
then you wanna bring up the sun
and if you want them to be real
just gotta look them in the eyes

oh, turn the lights on baby
please turn the lights on now
the night's not over
and you're not ready
the dawn isn't coming
you'll never be ready

I've been in the dark for so long
do I even have a face?
haven't seen myself since I was someone else
do I even have a face?

turn the lights on baby
turn the lights on please
I've got to know if I am still here
I cannot tell if I am real.

Turn the lights on baby
turn the lights on now
I've got to know if I am still here
I cannot tell if I am real.

Turn the lights on baby
turn the lights on now
turn the lights on baby
turn the lights on.

I know that heroes often die
but I can not feel their pain

like footsteps in the dark
I can not see a face
but I know you're walking there,
going someplace- I don't know where.

So is it so terribly strange,
to want to be at your side?
Through all of the days and through the nights
Leaving starlit steps behind.
Strange
how it is so hard
When stillness hurts the most


And when all you do is strain
to make the next sunrise

It's when I need you the most
'cause while your embers start to dim,
I see they still cast a holy light,
a warning, a welcome, my beacon in the night.


So is it so terribly strange,
to want to be at your side?
While fighting our way to the sunrise,
leaving scarlet steps behind.
yes it's strange,
how close that we are,
the distance is too far.

---

And I know that heroes often die
And I can not feel their pain

Only the absence of her voice,
and the echo of his cane.

You know, their silence fills the night
And I can not see a flame

So is it so terribly strange
to want to be by your side?

I am ready
for every single cell
to be lit up
like a torch
flaming up to
the constellations,
all past debris
to be scorched
I am ready
to spread fingers drifting
to the finer points
of the sky
to hold up
the firmament
of my own existance
without needing
to question why
I am ready
to dance on water
toes on surface
splashing
I am ready to
travel deeper, further
without fear
of my heart
crashing
I am ready
to take on
the the indigo fire
of truth
I am ready to feel
my full ripeness
inside me
blushing youth
The juice of the fruit
is just at the edge
ready to burst and to pour
in tiny dewy droplets
bespeaking the promise
of more
I am ready to turn on the switch
and let the light show begin
my auroral inner cosmos
erupting
       from within

We live in a world
that is at least
half darkness.
So shouldn't half of our poems
be dark?
Or perhaps half of every poem?

Or half of that?

How do we parse the darkness
of this world -
of our lives -
and still live?

How do we tip-toe on the edge
of eternity
the grave
And smile?

You figure it out.
It's a mystery.

It's determined not
By your flow of words
Nor the rhymes
That makes a rhythm
Those are countless

It's by the courage
You simply give
To the new ones
For that shows
The love of poetry

Best Poets Are Among Us