Futurity Poem by Morgan Michaels

Futurity, how awfully sick you look!
You, who were fat and green as the rashes
have shrunken to a stick, pale as ashes
every sign of health forsook;
once you were takeable for granted
certain, unshakeable assured
now your definition is supplanted
to hardly-know-the-meaning-of-the-word[
now is the reason for you
as you are the reason for the now
if there were no you to travel to
what's the use of living, anyhow?
now you're like a shadow nigh to noon-
give you just a minute and you're gone.