Midday

Heat the bottle.
Change diapers.
Put clothes on.
Eat a slice of bread while she clings to my left leg.
Vacuum the house.
Do the laundry.
Heat the bottle.
Change diapers.
Hang clothes to dry.
Heat the babyfood.
Feed her.
Clean the table.
Clean the floor.
Clean her clothes.
Change diapers.
Play with her for one hour.
Go to pee.
Listen to a glass breaking.
Run to the baby, who is sitting in a pile of shards.
Put her in her room. Close the door. Vacuum again.
Mop the floor while she screams and beats her tiny hands against the closed door.
Open the door. Calm her down. Sing a song to her and dance around.
Put her to crawl around.
Try to shower in five minutes while stopping her from entering the shower.
Try not to listen to her screams.
Try to dress while she is clinging on my right leg.
Dry my hair while she plays with the cable of the hair dryer.
Put her into the stroller. Carry the stroller and the dog three floors downstairs.
Try to push the stroller on Brazilian sidewalks.
Collect the dogs poop. Try to find a garbage bin.
Get home. Try to open three doors with the stroller and the dog in the way.
Carry the stroller with the baby three floors upstairs.
Put her in bed for the nap.
Exhale slowly and hope to have 20 minutes for lunch.
Heat lunch.
Dogs bark.
Baby cries.
Food gets cold.
Calm down baby. Put her in bed again.
Heat lunch for a second time.
Eat.
Close eyes for five minutes.
Open your eyes. It's midday.

Sure thing

Disappearing
slowly.
I look into the mirror and can't see me.
The dark circles around my eyes hide my endless sadness.
Days and days and days start and end the same
and I wonder what happened.
I wonder where I've gone
I wonder if I'll ever wake up again
from this numbness
this silence
this slow agony.

I can see the end
I know where this goes
I see the cliff
and I know I'm drifting towards it.
I know I'll fall deeper than deep.
And nothing will be left.