Winter’s Anhedonia

Cold, gray static

Emptiness

A matte fog of numbness

My saturnine world muted

Of color and sound

Food so tasteless

Appetizing as ash

Nothing moves me

Or brings pleasure

While peering over

The observation deck

Everyone else

Around me

Seemingly so alive

Coils of apathy

Squeeze me

In a suffocating embrace

And dangle me over

My personal abyss of

Bleak nothingness