Kristen Stewart Wrote A Poem
I’m going to be honest here. I know next to nothing about poetry and would immediately zone out during any part of any class when it was time to read or write it. I even dated an English major who tried her damnedest to get me into it, but she also could orgasm just by touching her nipples which is like giving a six-year-old a GameBoy while you’re trying to teach him Shakespeare. Anyway, I have absolutely no fucking clue whether or not the Internet is in any position to lose its mind over Kristen Stewart’s poem in Marie Claire and declare it the worst shit ever written. So let’s all read it together, and we’ll compare notes at the end:
My Heart Is A Wiffle Ball/Freedom Pole
I reared digital moonlight
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
And I’m drunk on your morsels
And so I look down the line
Your every twitch hand drum salute
Okay, I have written down, “Ha ha ha ‘suck the bones,'” and “Last part about riding dick??” because I thought that last part was about riding a dick. Did I do good?