Third-rate comfort

We need to talk. We need to shout, yell at one another. I need to be angry. We need to say worthless things. You and I. Nasty things. Give me reasons to hate your living guts. I will give you plenty to hate mine. Let ugly things be said, be exaggerated. Let things that make no sense be said. I need you to scream at me. Tell me how useless, pathetic I am. Tell me what an asshole I have been. I will tell you what a bitch you have been. I will tell you how you disgust me to the core of my deranged existence. You tell me how you get repulsed by the mere thought of me. You need to laugh at my sorry state. Let me be thrilled by your miserable life. Let's get hysterical about it. Tell me how big a loser i am. Tell me how rotten my jokes are, how appalling my touch is. Offend me.  I will tell you how numb your brain is. How fucked up your thought is. Let's be angry. Let's be agitated. Let me be sickened by the sound of your name. Let's break a few things. Let's dance in the gloominess of it all. Let a million strangers be amused at this spectacle. Let the wretched broken thing be crushed to dust. Let it be thrown in the dirt. In the dumps.
Let's torture the memories. Let's kill the wonder. Let's disgrace happiness. Burn it.
Let's be ashamed by the idea of one another. Let 'vain' be tattooed on our foreheads. Let's do some lasting damage. Let's be monstrous. Let's be free.