Kristen Stewart says “judge away” about her affair; writes terrible poetry

TWILIGHT star Kristen Stewart is unrepentant about her affair with a married man — and she’s damn proud of her poetry too. Wanna hear it?

Kristen Stewart, poet.

KRISTEN Stewart has revealed she’s unfussed by any judgment of her very public affair.

The Twilight star, who cheated on her co-star boyfriend Robert Pattinson with married director with director Rupert Sanders back in 2012 and then released a grovelling public apology for the indiscretion, is now more defiant about the issue.

Speaking to Marie Claire magazine, she states:

“I stand by every mistake I’ve ever made. So judge away.”

Kristen Stewart with Rupert Sanders and, at left, the director’s wife Liberty Ross, who filed for divorce after news of their affair went public.

Even if you don’t judge Stewart for her affair, you might be less forgiving about her poetry. In the interview, Stewart reveals that she’s a budding poet, and reads one of her efforts aloud. Here, in full, is Kristen Stewart’s My Heart Is A Wiffle Ball/Freedom Pole:

You read its clock, scrawled neon across that black

Kismetly … ubiquitously crest fallen

Thrown down to strafe your foothills

… I’ll suck the bones pretty.

Your nature perforated the abrasive organ pumps

Spray painted everything known to man,

Stream rushed through and all out into

Something Whilst the crackling stare down sun snuck

Through our windows boarded up

He hit your flint face and it sparked.

And I bellowed and you parked

We reached Marfa.

One honest day up on this freedom pole

Devils not done digging

He’s speaking in tongues all along the pan handle

And this pining erosion is getting dust in

My eyes

And I’m drunk on your morsels

And so I look down the line

Your every twitch hand drum salute

Salutes mine …

“I don’t want to sound so f***ing utterly pretentious … but after I write something, I go, ‘Holy f***, that’s crazy,’” she tells the magazine.

“It’s the same thing with acting: If I do a good scene, I’m always like, ‘Whoa, that’s really dope.”

You’re right, Kristen. That poem was so dope it perforated our abrasive organ pumps.