Gobbledegook

I can't explain it but I feel like everything I work towards is fleeting
It doesn't matter how hard I try, the end result is fleeting
It comes in moments of pure terror
It comes in moments of the idealized
Whatever it is I know it when it happens
You'd have to feel it to know it
And if you missed it, you want it
And if you saw it, you'd want more
Only problem being it's being beyond my will
And if I try to do something, it is only to prove I can't
Writing is therapeutic
Reading never leads me where I want to go most
Map it on the body
Safe to stay there if you never want to see it again
What is this desire for the unknown always changing
Knowing what I know now, maybe there's nothing left
To pun, to say, to fight, to do, to become, to be
But now, when I am most proud, inspired, how to end?
The question asked, the answer null