Equations: Dialectic Form (2021)

#53
Jade keeps pulling surprises. I’m stunned because she does this with a
certain amount of levity, as though anything that startles goes up. The
drugs she ingests take her to a realm of crystallized perfection, in which
she cuts through open spaces like a human blade. Because I am willing to
follow her, she initiates me into the mysteries of this realm. I find that my
edge is blunted, because in many ways it is a false edge— artificially
produced, unstable, past any form of measurement. Nevertheless, when
we meet in the middle our edges coalesce. Alright, so this is artificial, she
says; what and who gets to define the natural? Can you even tell me what
the natural is? I admit that I can’t, and this admission transpires at a
moment of maximum vulnerability for both of us. Are we razors or
mirrors? Jade inhabits a world of hollow forms, which she hovers
above— my role in her life is to contradict her thesis, that we might create
a dialectic. As we move towards synthesis, Jade places one of her hands
on my face, puts her forehead to mine. She knows that there is a sting in
her hollowness for me, who would prefer to see fullness. But we go on
like this for hours without knowing what or who we are. The depth of this
place eats into my eyes, but (as Jade is learning) I enjoy being eaten—
chewed, swallowed, digested.
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