Constellation

Whew. This one's a doozy. Another madness-themed piece, but I'm not sure how well it worked.

I desperately need critique. On EVERYTHING. I would particularly appreciate comments on these topics...

This is really supposed to show a person's disintegration into madness, but I'm not sure how well I showed that.
1. Plot arc. Can you see the character's trajectory? Can you see a story there? How does it end?
2. Consistent perspective and tone. Although this is supposed to be a madness piece, I'm concerned I'm too inconsistent in POV, at the very least.
3. Do you like the way I've used line breaks/capitalization/punctuation (or the complete lack thereof)?
4. How well do you think the imagery progresses? Despite being a madness piece, do you think there is some kind of logical flow to or connection between the images?

I guess that's what I keep coming back to - although it's a madness piece, I think I need to make some basic level of sense, and I'm worried I haven't done that.

Comments appreciated.

"Звезда"
(Star)

i. I was still, once;

a rock amidst constellations that

flapped like birds.

Their spinning gravity wells

have strung me—

a glittering necklace of asteroids.

Madness is only a quiet hunger for those

who do not live within the skull

that is being broken apart by too many stars.

ii.

as a fox kit i will wander russian forests in winter hoping to be taken in

longing for bright red curls but silver furred and searching hungry for the mice beneath the snow

ringed round with chicken wire and caught amongst the hens wishing for the

russet hair that would blend me in

if i were catherine the great i would not have to feel the rising fear every december

and as virgin queens go i would be more of an elizabeth than a victoria always

turning tailward to devour enemies of the throne

but the most i may hope for by march is to be caught by the forest witch

and have my boiled bones strung like constellations amongst my fox kin

outside her chicken legged house

gravity and greed are just hunger of different kinds

iii.

come close child and listen to me

listen to the story of when i went as lovely vasilisa to the witch’s house and came back out again with the star light of the insides of skulls and listen to how i became the doll given to me by my mother and of how i set my own eyelids on fire trying to convince queen cassiopeia in the sky that i already had my own constellations and how people would not believe that she was trying to come get me

and how i was abandoned by the scarecrow that hid Beetlegeuse in its heart

and how my antlers came in early and i tore them off to keep it secret

and how this one time i caught my hair in the willow tree and spent three lifetimes as a fortuneteller

and how it is russia i keep coming back to with its name like winter trees fore telling me as a collection of ice and fur beneath a night sky empty of everything but my paranoia and the way orion from his height keeps looking at me with hunger in his eyes

and i have seen hell

and it is white white and leaves nowhere to hide

iv. Even buildings are not safe.

I am allowed outside if I am good.

One of these January mornings I will be good enough

and they will find me months later when the thaw comes

sleeping with the dead river

and all the other fish

who cannot swim.