Zubair Ali Biography

You are a poppy flower.
In that red-wine attire,
You fan the flames of my desire.
When you unlash your hair,
...

We lay in the field of sorrows.
Our faces scrabbed with blades of grief.
On the brink of desires
The hot steam of memories rip off our flesh
...

With drugs I kill my heart
For a few drops of delight.
To quench my crimson thirst,
I prick my veins
...

I stumble over my tears,
I am unconscious,
Helpless like my hallucinations
Banged by bombs,
...

I will be with you
When you die.
I will spark in your grave
Like a longing of life
...