foxfire

02 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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erotic poetry, foxfire, gross indecency, hardcore, incest, Love shall make us a threesome, sonnet, spermatic fizz, we're the ire in desire

Your mum loves anal, too, you know. Request
for your breast as you undressed met with morose

pause, flushed flesh. Your whole soul I’ve loosened, pressed
your yaw to my maw, lubed in acts of gross

indecency. She stands outside your door
watching, you know. Once she walked in on me.

“You are hopeless. It can’t be helped.” Hardcore
spermatic fizz, jazz jizz, dribbled as she

swayed. Tonight is the hour to baste your mum’s
flower, that gape that devours girls and boys

up whole. Adorned with sex flecks, cum crumbs,
call her, tell her that tonight you’ll share toys.

Tonight we’ll get off on rage, blue foxfire.
Tonight we’ll all put the ire in desire.

noontide

28 Monday May 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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anal sex, erotic poetry, incest, noontide, sonnet, threesome

Then I walk in. You are their Mama Bear;
Lyric’s cock hard in your hand, Karma’s cunt

spread wide under your tongue. Boys with longhair,
girls in combat boots; when you are pregnant

and huge like this your sex drive runs amok.
Noontide blunts. Bourbon. Gaping of your ass

as you slowly reach around your stomach
to guide Lyric in. I watch the blue-glass

veins, wide shaft, fatty tip vanish inside.
Who would ask for this when we feel pure want

consume us? When our lethargic passion
stirs? There is hell in not being denied,

in not saying no when you’re their mad aunt,
and these two, your baby sister’s children.

lapping thistledown

27 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry

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age difference, art, erotic poetry, incest, mother and child

wet as a swamp/ drowning between her thighs/ lapping thistledown

heat shimmers/ in the shade of her bedroom/ the widow goes down

two virgin boys/ all that defines me/ endless hunger, she said

he-she-he/ their teacher showed them how/ to enter together

my heroes are always/ undersexed with/ with the most vivid of imaginations …

you say

13 Sunday Apr 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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age difference, all of us who love the erotic, incest, mother-son, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Not all housewives are hungry, but you are.
Not all home-schooling parents develop

crushes on their sons, but you did. Bizarre
as that seems, many dwell in and worship

at the house of incest. Lot’s daughters did.
The French have a whole genre devoted

to son-and-mother love. What we forbid
always becomes tempting. You are naked,

you say, going mad with need. It’s not right
that no one wants you, you say. But I do.

I don’t care who your lovers are, what dumb
dreams and fancies get you to sleep each night.

I’ve spent my whole life looking for one who
can be honest about what makes her cum.

Image

coffee interrupted

09 Sunday Feb 2014

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art, auntie and my mother, coffee interrupted, do you want to touch me there?, incest, mother-child, threesome

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art

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now i feel now i feel now i feel

26 Sunday Jan 2014

Tags

art, erotic, hentai, hookah, incest, mother-son, oui! mon fils!, pokadot soul, spots are cool

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, hentai, Illustration and art

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never believe that something are better left unsaid

02 Thursday Jan 2014

Tags

art, incest, Paul and his aunt

“child of my heart and my sister’s loins”

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Erotic, Illustration and art

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half-emerge, gleaming

17 Tuesday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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age difference, erotic, half-emerge gleaming, incest, poem poetry, sonnet

And she touched boyish lips and felt his fierce
need so she rubbed his childish heat. Bending
over, she raised her skirt, letting him pierce
her. A son’s love. Belly down, back curving,
she felt him slip between her cheeks, debauched
as all goddesses are. He was possessed,
a beast, creaming deep in her guts. She watched
him half-emerge, gleaming. Prince said incest
was all “it’s said to be.” She squeezed him, dull
and soft in her muscles, blushing, childish.
He called her “mom,” and, with a slurping sigh,
withdrew. Then he too was gone, a middle-
schooler home for lunch. She stood, his boyish
gift for some blessed rite dripping down her thigh.

my sister [irmã minha]

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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incest, irmã minha, my sister, Poetry, Portuguese translation, the dead are never satisfied

Irmã morta minha dentro de mim está.
Você entende os mortos?
Se a minha irmã era uma montanha eu era um cactus em chamas, aquecendo sangue dela.
Os mortos não têm casa, e nada pode acalmar seus medo.
É por isso que irmã morta minha dentro está de mim.
Porque eu amo ela.
.
My dead sister is inside me.
Do you understand the dead?
If my sister was a mountain then I was a burning cactus warming her blood.
The dead have no home and nothing can calm their fear.
That is why my dead sister is inside of me.
Because I love her.