The Ghosts of Creedmor 11-1-25

“Threads of Mist and Fog”

From Dreams to be Buried In

By God Body Disconnect

It's my last night at TSI's Miele's Respite on the Creedmor State Psychiatric Hospital campus--really more of a huge park/sanctuary/reserve far out and deep within the outer reachers of Queens.

The track above is a great ending score to my stay today,11-1-25. My short story started out "The Ghost of Creedmor" then became "The Ghosts of Creedmor" and finally I reached a subconscious to conscious revelation with "The Ghosted of Creedmor." That being my story was indeed about me! I'm the ghosted one! All this time I thought the idea, the theme was some, crazy, insane, violent ghosts that haunts the grounds and the rotted buildings of Creedmor State Psychiatric Hospital, i.e., the echoes of the insane. No. What I was really writing about were the half-asses that populate my life. Damn. I need to forgive myself for it and realize this isn't me. It's them, these so-called fair weather friends that only call when they want to be entertained, or shove new privacy boundaries in my face because they are too insecure to share emotional intimacy with me: or answer (my intimate) emails with a cold-blooded "I saw your email and I will respond (yes respond) to it later" (later never comes). That's not a friend. That's more along the lines of a stranger or better yet "Now you're just somebody that I used to know." Or another, the one that texts me every 2 weeks to tell me they're thinking of me (but they're too busy to even have a chat or check-in), yet they are real quick to offer a casual condemnation and judgement of my personal views of "being in integrity." Shit, y'all my mission is different than yours probably because I'm 30 years older than you. So Lay Off! Finally there was Ricardo Bermudez, the disappearing therapist who ditched me without a word. (Maybe he just died, I don't really know). Jesus. Talk about professional closure. HA HA HA. Forgive and move on gurl. Forgive and move on: but you will never forget. Only thing that's real is, you only got yourself to depend on and that's a full time job in itself, especially in New York friggin' City!

God Bless this hot mess of myself: and God Bless the Ghosted of Creedmor.

Sometimes you think you're being clever but what's really happening is your subconscious mind is actually showing you something and kinda providing a healing sort of EXTRACTION (it's called in Shamanic work) of some weird parasitic entity that's attached itself to you and that you've been carrying around for much too long. OUT damned spot!

Dear H.P., thank you for the messages. I will make every effort to remember them. xoxo