Metaphysician

So I went to the doctor
With this numbness.
He showed me scalp
And little interest.
'what seems to be
The trouble, Mr. ----'
He said, to the rhythm
Of his scritching pen.
'I can't feel my.. My future.'
I answered, eyes brimming
With detachment.
'Your future.' He repeated,
And, closing off Wikipedia.
He saw me for the first time.
Could he see my future,
Do you suppose he could?

'Other symptoms, Mr....?'
'I cannot feel I have a future.
I cannot imagine having
Full grown sons tall as me.
I cannot see me,
Creased, incontinent.
I can't hear the slowing thump
Of life's harsh beating,
Or think of finding pleasure
In tea, warm rug on knee.
I cannot feel
Fulfilment comes
Or validation
As a man
Do I die young?
Is there some cancer
Eating me?'
The outpour ceases.
He says:

'Go home, don't rest.
Take these three times a day.
Don't be alone until
The course is done.'
I looked at his prescription.
Frowned and sat back down.
'What are these?'
His scalp again.

'Those are tablets for your eyes.
They change your eyeball's shape...
Improve nearsightedness.
You look too far ahead, man.
You fail to see what's now.
You'll feel the future as it grows..
It's growing in you now.'

I took the pills, and,
No longer colliding with days,
I walked into my future.