Touta stubbed out his cigarette, making sure his room was very, very cold. If it was cold in the room, he wouldn't blush. And if he wouldn't blush, he wouldn't be cute. And if he wouldn't be cute, there would be no... issues, with Matsuda, regardless of what he wanted to say ( Read more... )

Donning his trenchcoat and tying his greasy hair back with a band, Touta put on his shades and emptied his pockets, knowing he would be filling them again with his wares soon. Sighing and checking himself out in the mirror, he went down to greet Matsuda, who'd opted for a meal before getting dressed ( Read more... )

As a trendfollower and a fellow clone of this degernated society, I too have done the LJ Friend Meme. However, as this is pointless, as is all life, I opted not to waste my life completing all the questions and instead did only a quarter of them.

Click here.
Take the quiz.
Post your results.
( See torturedtouta's results. )

He was waiting in the dimly lit café until in his double arrived at his customary table, a thin curl of cigarette smoke wafting up toward the ceiling as he listened to one speaker thump on his bongo drums as he chanted something about a hurricane. It was a metaphor, and it wasn't bad, but Touta couldn't bring himself to care. Only true poetry from ( Read more... )

So, Journal, you are to be the documentation of my life. It is bound to be a sad tale of agony and despair, but luckily for you, you shan't have to do much else then bear the words of my burdenous tale. And be privy to very bad poetry, on occasion ( Read more... )