http://slow.writerscafe.org/jonathanfigaro The original writings of author jonathanfigaro en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776195452 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 This is a piece that describes my innerchild. I think we all have that 2 year old win us. The piece of us that never grows up. Here is mine. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/1146418/ Constantly tortured by her thoughts of anxiety, depressionand extreme insecurity; She traveled the deserted campus of life, quenching thethirst for companion ship.  Seeking selfexpression in the peer groups of the worst most kind, she veered off the roadof positive expectation. She head.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/662265/ “Life is always an up and downobstacle course that I can’t seem to maintain,” she says.Her emotional gauge flewupon the track of insanity with each passing moment.He hears this from the lips ofa woman, he had been with. There relationship was platonic; more physical than.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/662257/ Close your eyes and you can possibly see the vision of your life. The mind is cold and dark. Thoughts pump like the mouth, of a child on the nozzle of his mother’s bosom. His eyes glisten as nature takes over nurture. His blond hair waves frantically in the air. His retinas reflect the possibi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/662250/ It rings and rings so many times he considers picking it up. His time on this earth is limited so is yours. We all want to do better things in life. Achieve more and leap upon the bright side of day.  But most of us live masochistically rather than joyfully.He is interjected by a phone call.&ld.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/662247/ “Destruction…ahahaha,” The vile laugh of Dr. Magnesium begins to tick the soul of your local tick tock super hero. Her name skips my memory bank.The eye of her nemesis begins to rile the skirt and the outskirts of her throat. You can feel the tension in the air. The battle between.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/662245/ BROOKLYN, NEW YORKMy home was a building which housed the names of pathway syndicates on the interior walls decorated with pride. Designed with a blueprint of   rebellion enchanted by the hallway, it smells of defecation burnt nostrils. Night time was subliminal for “loose lips .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/662242/ I see the sun rising on the shoresof Thailand. It's been days since I saw my platoon buddies in the rubber-neckpacks of fanatics swarming through the streets"meddlesome maniacs we call them.Bullets burn through the souls of tomorrow’s college graduates as I try to lookpast the dead.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jonathanfigaro/662184/