It sounds like you're thoroughly sick of your work, but can't or won't consciously admit it even to yourself, so your body is staging a wildcat strike.
I've been developing software for over twenty years, and when this happens to me I get the hell away from computers for a bit.
Good luck.
Or, rather, I can, but just slowly and half-assed.
It sounds like you need at least a weekend where you do absolutely nothing, like post-hypnotic Peter Gibbons in Mike Judge's 1999 accidental documentary Office Space. Just sleep. It sounds like you're worn the hell out.
It also sounds like you're killing yourself to live.
Of course, if you're not into Frank Zappa you won't get the bit about dental floss; it's in a song called "Montana".
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qs0CGOwWmCI
No bombs, of course, because while a bullet can have your name on it, AOE damage is addressed "to whom it may concern" and I don't want to hurt some poor schmuck who didn't have it coming. Though if a Republican annoys me I might mail them some Anthrax albums. See what they make of Persistence of Time or Among the Living.