,`>{

It's been some black some white and all shades of grey to fill in the spaces of time. The clock continues to step a tick and hop a tock away with no recollection of the moment elapsed nor with any signs of forcefed empathy. Life is zip-zot without purpose and time's worth a factor of zilch. With the last binding string cut loose, I drift into emptiness gulfed by loneliness. Ironically though, it's hard to find clarity amidst vast spaces of nothing; going nowhere.

The radio echoed a static buzz which was lesser devil compared to deafening silence. Adjunct to the racing clock is the bottle of scotch gleaming in all its glory. Clear and crisp and at an arms distance, it's the only company i've had all evening. The good friend that it was, it got to me fighting the cold and leaving no rock unturned... but with every gulp, it seemed to fume at the lackadaisical welcome and that only fogged my brains. Floating in those clouds was a message in response to my S.O.S. and before i knew it, my fingers tickled the num-pad and i heard a voice on the other end of the cord yell... Goooo toooo hell !!! ... and then, for the first time in months the radio boomed...

"No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow me down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody's gonna mess me round
Hey Satan, payin' my dues
Playing in a rocking band
Hey Momma, look at me
I'm on my way to the promised land

I'm on the highway to hell
Don't stop me.

And I'm going down, all the way down
I'm on the highway to hell."