My wine is on the top shelf of my closet, inside a suit case.
One pack of cigarettes rests inside of my nightstand.
My Vicodin lies in the back of the same nightstand in a small red envelope.
My **** is in an Altoids tin sandwiched between my two mattresses, by the window.
Another pack of cigarettes is in the front pocket of my backpack accompanied by a lighter.
Another lighter is in clear view on my nightstand.
Three 70 mg Oxycontin are in an allergy pill container underneath my bed.
My tobacco pipe and tobacco are in an old medical kit on the second shelf of my book shelf.

I love you mom.
More than all these things
and the fact that I feel that I have to let you know that makes me very, very sad.