Final Speech:
When my ELIM showed up under the Chart of TDR scores on google spreadsheets.
It felt like the closest to investigating a crime scene that I’ve ever been
That is, if I don’t count the clockwork murder that I make of my own memory
Every time that I drove down the workroom avenue
Still,
I sit in my living room and I sift for clues
CLICK
Adriana Botticelli is smiling and I see myself CAUGHT in her TEETH
She is dancing in some club in a city that Ive never been to
CLICK
3 Leg Sin Clair is eating sushi over a few beers with friends and I am under her fat rolls
CLICK
I know that lip-sync
CLICK
I killed the memory of that BTTM2 look
CLICK
This is an old photograph, a 3 Leg Sin Clair baby picture.
There is also an older woman, presumably her drag mother.
They are both round, and bright, and still smiling.
CLICK
Annie Mosity is padded and I see my reflection in the green room mirror.
HASHTAG SEASON SEVENTEEN WINNER
I call them the WOLVES when I write about them, the wolves so as to make them as storybook as possible.
THE WOLVES, when I write about them, which is to say, when my memory escapes the LOSS
When the internet suggests it, TDR chart informs me that I have three finale runner-ups.
Which is to say, That they are people you may have crowned, and that I am people you may have crowned.
And there are people that have been crowned and people that haven’t been crowned and people that shouldn’t have been crowned that you should have crowned that you're afraid to let crown
And probably people that know that I deserve the crown that know of my runner-ups that know
The word ELIM ELIM ELIM. ELIM IS A FLOCK OF SLEEPING SHEEP SITTING IN MY MOUTH.
And now….now I know the WOLVES drag careers and what they lip-sync to on Spotify and the all too familiar company that they keep, and they can no longer be wolves.
Or the nameless grave that I dig for myself on BTTM2 days, I have three finale losses on the charts and now it feels like they are holding the shovel.
64 people liked the padded Annie pic.
4 people have told me that they’d rather I have never been in finale.
Two judges told me that I must give my drag career up or pretend it didn’t happen
That obviously I could have fought harder
Which is to say no one comes running for young boys who cry RIGGERY
When I told my brother, he also asked me why I didn’t do better.
Tayvie, I am... right now. I promise, everyday
I write a poem titled ‘Tomorrow’.
It is a handwritten list of the challenges from best performance to worse, and I make sure to put my own name at the top.
based on:
Finale look: https://imgur.com/a/2nknW
A very conceptual piece, I am donning my entire gameplay on my body AND reflecting on those who came before me... (Selena Del Barrio, Princess Klementine, Slim Thik E Lee)
Tayvie, You are the accumulation of the most vile substances ever to be spouted forth from the greasy loins of Hades. You seep of putrid filth from the gutter of a homeless man’s taint. Every time I look in your general direction, I vomit in my mouth and pray for the sweet release of death. Your yuppie fucking smirk tweaks me to drench a thousand innocent puppies in gasoline and set them ablaze like the bowels of the inferno from whence you came. Let the dark pits of hell swallow you up and sodomize you with the grainiest sandpaper on the scorched surface of earth. In the name of all fucking things holy, don’t you ever dare procreate, because if you do, so help me god I will wipe out every tiny allele of your genetic information from the pungent shitstain that is this planet. Until the end of time I will scour the earth for all that you love and dice it into bloody, meaty bits. The mere thought of your petty existence brings tears to my eyes, and summons up a relentless fury inside me that’s sole purpose is to make you rue the day that you were conceived on that contaminated dormroom floor upon which your parents so sweatily fucked. On dark nights when the crescent moon shines and the crickets chirp, I lie awake and contemplate the base and depraved ways I will make your life a living hell until the end of time. When you speak, each time your sleazy mouth flickers open, I do not process your impotent words, yet only seize it as another god-given opportunity to bash your teeth down your moist, scummy gullet. Every movement you make, every single fucking involuntary twitch makes me hate you with more burning passion than the last. I resent you with every ounce of my being; and in the end, with all the strengths inside me, regardless of what cancerous cells overcome my body, or the decrepit condition my aging figure has been reduced to, I will fight to stay alive so I can laugh maliciously in my head as your family whimpers over your untimely demise.
Lipsync
me at graduation uh huh
me kicking kuntess aka the big school bully >.< http://teamjimmyjoe.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/yoga-coach-kick-face.gif
me helping shy girl in the lip sync ?itemid=8925501
*me looks across the stage at kuntess giving tayvie a blow job :OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO* https://media.giphy.com/media/nHrmECOBZOHlu/giphy.gif
omg i got distracted and ruined my lip sync waaaah http://media.tumblr.com/5cc9d141dd6548de76fc7f9112feb726/tumblr_inline_mhvfceta3z1qz4rgp.gif
me as i get fourth :D https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-03XaAUWxmd4/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAADU/NMI9ICPwrsA/photo.jpg
my final pose
?itemid=8925501
