Bleak Inertia

Nothing cooperates with me anymore
 
(Have I become non-human?)
 
...handels, buttons, spoons;
 
my tongue, my bowels, my feet
 
I cannot see, nor eat...
 
I trip, cut, bruise
 
an abomination before all I meet
 
(My skin festers like that of Job)
 
I have no helper to probe into my case
 
I do not understand what cause this serves
 
If it be a punishment I "deserve" then the timing's quite out
 
Why does all this adversity knock me down
 
(Just as I am rising out from the grave)
 
Can't a repentant sinner find grace anymore?
 
I weep alone and find no relief
 
(What's the point of holding onto "belief" if it doesn't come through in the darkest hour?)
 
My power fades as dawn approaches
 
I shrink to join the cockroaches
 
All dignity stripped
 
All pride fled the scene
 
The days I had a soul
 
are now the static residue
 
of a vain dream