Inhuman 666

I'm a guy from Florida. I keep my identity hidden, and there's a reason for that. I started Inhuman 666 from inside a psychiatric hospital. Not as a doctor. As a patient. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Before I got treatment, I lost track of what was real and what wasn't. I tried to end my life more times than I want to count. The hospital caught me, over and over, and slowly gave me back enough to stand up. While I was inside, I met people just like me. People who'd been written off. One used to scratch the same three numbers onto every surface he could reach. The wall. A napkin. The inside of a notebook. 666. He never said what it meant. After he was gone, the number stayed with me. That's where the name came from. Not the devil. A patient. A person nobody else remembered. I started writing songs to put their feelings somewhere. Mine too. I knew there were people outside who feel inhuman to themselves, who think nobody hears the noise they hear. I wanted them to know somebody does. Inhuman 666 is a solo project. Every song written by me, recorded with collaborators around the world. The sound is dark rock and dark atmosphere, written for the moments most music skips over: psychosis, grief that won't move, religious damage, possession, surrender, and the version of yourself you don't want to meet again. If the songs reach you the way I hope they do, you'll know you're not alone in it. That's why I kept going. That's why I still do.