The joke is
That I literally want to **** dogs.
I want to shoot them dead in the streets
And I'll keep shooting until there's
No more whimpers, no more barking.
No matter how many bullets it takes.
I'll run to the store for more ammo,
I'll use my knife if I have to.
I'll watch their blood pool around them
As I relish in the relief of silence.
God please, god give me silence.
Dear God, please, please. Stop them barking.
Please god. Forgive me God, forgive me mother
Forgive me Henry, Dan, forgive me but the barking
Please forgive me the barking I can't
I can't deal with the barking  with the incessant
The never ending panting and whimpers and
God, oh god, the barking is persistent and punctuated
By the deafening gun blasts and
I'm sobbing and I'm shooting and I can't stop
I can't stop the barking or the ringing in my ears
And the buzzing in my head and the mania and the mania and the mania and the mania and the mania and the mania and the mania and the mania and the mania god, the mania is real the ringing is real the buzzing is real and I can't see a thing lord I can't think or breathe or stop my finger squeezing the trigger on an empty magazine as my hands shake and my white knuckles crack under the pressure I'm subconsciously exerting and my veins pump acid Lord, my veins pump and pump I can hear my heartbeat in my teeth and I'm scratching, ripping at my veins, pulling them out of my arms like an old pair of shoelaces and someone is shaking me but I'm alone I'm alone I'm alone but they won't stop shaking and shadows dance in the periphery of my vision and sirens are blaring somewhere in the distance and,
I can see god.
I can see the lord swaddled in white light.
I can see everything.