I know What You Wish Not To (Rough Draft of Parts 1 and 2)

Voyeur
I
I know you. No that’s not correct, I know who you wish to be. I’ve looked through everything you’ve done. I’ve subtly found out your true interest, how you walk, how you talk… and most of all, what you do at the start of every hour, is deeply engraved. You’re so beautifully organized. Your hair falls to your shoulders perfectly, and your clothes cling to you as if by design to accentuate your form. Simply, I am to believe, by no certain means, (though I must believe in you,) that you are a goddess, beauty imagined. You may not even know my name- in fact you’ve called me by other men’s names before, which greatly irritates me I may add, yet I still respond- but I do know yours. I like to say your name to the mirror: I like the way your name sounds off my tongue. People tell me I’m nice, you included, but why is it that a nice man must be so sickly. I am but a sick man in search of the next beauty to corrupt. In fact; I know so much about you, that's the very reason, though it’s silly, (I’m aware you mustn’t remind me of the obvious- I find it pointless,) I wish to destroy your world. I wish to see you in peril, moments from whisking away carried by the wind of a distant world. To only then extend my hand, a stranger, a man who knows so much of you. That’s when I wish you to look at me, and see you’ve been blind to yourself this whole time. I think I can save you.
No, I will save you. I’m tired of being the half-man I was, waiting for an opportunity to fall to me. I’m tired! Oh how it aches me! Why must you be so hard to reach, my flower! For I wish only to indulge in but an ounce of your evil, twisted desire, to taste your bulbous head is what ails me! Huff… I’m sorry, I got sidetracked. You deserve more than an incoherent mad man sobering over his Fantasies. I’ve worked hard to put aside the desire of man. For you, I’ve gone strong in 3 years of not looking at another woman. I’ve got my eyes glued to you, they can’t seem to wander elsewhere- even my head must be for you only! Why haven’t you realized that all that’s fallen to you, has been from me. The shadows. Sometimes it’s as if I’m feeding a pod of dolphins who only jump out the water at your food so often looking beautiful. Though you’ve yet to jump, tricky bugger!
Search no longer for that perfect man you talk to your friends about. I swear I’m but a glance away, simply look at me and I’ll be yours, my aphrodisiac. You simply churn my heart to butter! Why, oh little evil flower, must you never turn your head to face the true shining star. Don’t you know your ideal world is but a glance away, glance! When I watch you undress, when you think you’re alone of course, I think how easy it would be to snuff you, perhaps snuff is aggressive- How easy it would be to fossilize your prestigious form, a form surely the gods would even fawn over, and worship you for the rest of my life. When would the maggots start to infest you, I wonder? Would enough preservation keep your flesh looking clean, not blackened and purple, ruining your beauty is what has kept you alive.
Oh, my sweet rose! How my heart weeps for you so! Why must you wither once you’ve grown old, why can’t you remain an ever long beauty? Must I clip your stems and stunt your growth to keep you pretty? Oh, my sweet rose! Why must you tilt away from my radiance! Does the shadow not appeal more than the heat of the sun? Why must you look at me with such batted eyes- eyes may I add that I believe look indifferently towards men as a whole- don’t you know it furthers the thirst of your eve?
But what if you finally glance? Will the man who persists within my head, be the Man I am for you? Would you accept this crazy love-stricken fool? Would you see how much I’ve devoted to you, sacrificed for you, and accepted it? Or will you be frightened? Will you see the sick man for the sick man he is? I previously said that your beauty is why you’re alive, that was a lie. It’s my own fear of rejection that keeps us apart. The fear that when you look at me, your eyes won’t be how I envisioned them. Soft, warm, tender, even full of life- your eyes would be none. I would see disgust, anguish, fear, and worse of all, your eyes would be closed off. What would I do then? Oh, why must my own consciousness be what stops me from saving you!
II
Recently, I’ve felt worse. My body aches me, I attribute it to the long hours I spend in the car outside your house- that’s probably wrong to do isn’t it; who do I care! Staying outside your home lets me know when things are changing for you. The other day, I think it was Tuesday, you came home later than normal. I saw the way you were walking. It seems I’m not the only one who’s in pain. It makes me feel better to know you’re also experiencing hardship in your life. It’s like, we are closer than we were before now that we are both going through something. I think you get me, or you would get me if I could talk to you. But for now, staying in this car, outside your house, is enough for me.
More than normal, I’ve been thinking about you. The thought that tends to cross my mind the most, is would you accept my growing darkness? Would you lay on your back like the submissive bitch, (I mean this in the literal term “a female dog”, I swear,) I know you are? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Someone as divine as you should be treated with far more respect. I should be slaughtered, hoisted up for crows to feed on, feed the birds with my sickly body! Let whoever comes feel justified by invading my flesh with the sharpest of points they can find, let me be the sacrifice to you- my heavenly goddess- and have my sins be cleared! Love me for the hours you can, until my flesh becomes rotten, and you can no longer bear the stench, so long as you’ve loved me then it would all be worth it!
Okay, I think I’m better now. Watching you grounds me in a way. When I see you walking around your house, tipsy and carefree, it makes me want to join you. Would you scream if I joined you? What if I knocked? I’m sure if I simply knocked, asked to join, you would be happy to have a man at your door; I’ve heard you wish it countless times while out with your friends. I’m going to knock- I’m seriously going… …I couldn’t go.
No, that’s not it. I just didn’t want to go, that’s it! Yes, I simply decided that watching you was the better call. It’s best not to get hasty and risk everything I’ve worked so hard to build. It’s best not to pick your fruit early. I’ll let you mature, or in this case, break. Once you’ve nowhere to go, your life feels over. I’ll emerge, like Satan to eve, and give you a fruit that you surely can’t resist. 
Fruit tastes best when it’s coaxed in love. I would love you. Love you from inside until you eventually pass me through and I can love you outside again- if I was shit, I would still love you, I am shit. Wipe me away like every other stain that comes through your graze, pay me no mind! I simply enjoy being able to watch you.

(Bit of a lengthy post but I would love feedback on a story I’m creating. I’d also love to see if you can guess my inspiration! I think it’s fairly easy to see and unseeable once you get it! I have 3-4 written up as well if folks would like to read that! Please give me all criticism and help me make this work feel more alive! My goal is to submit this to my colleges annual literature arts event, so please tell me what I’m doing right and wrong!)

-Jeff