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Elena Raye

Elena Raye is a northern-born book lover, weightlifter, and writer. She relocated to warmer climes fifteen years ago and currently resides in a place of sandy beaches and hot sun. Elena has four cats, a frighteningly large collection of books, and a powerful passion for horror and LGBT+ stories. On a quest to expand her knowledge of reading and writing, Elena dedicates her time to cultivating books and crafting tales and poetry. You can contact her via email at

The Lost Psalm


All around me the walls are crumbling 

And upon a dark path I find myself stumbling

Winding twisting turning 

My heart hollowed, my racing mind yearning 

Emptiness like a deep abyss 

Lust in my veins like a devil’s kiss

Infected with infernal disease 

Every part splayed open to be seized 

I want to go down to the pool

Drown in the wreckage of some doomed fool 

Rise again, a cadaver with puppet strings 

Wielding silver scissors to cut angels’ wings 

I don’t want to fly 

Catching God’s tears as he cries

I want to sink below each wave 

Lungs full of liquid, a watery grave 

I’m obsessed with sex and death 

Fixated on your final breath 

And mine too because once I’m gone 

I’ll sit a throne in the kingdom of smoke and hellsong 

Would you be by my side? 

Would you give up every moment of time 

On this Earth to be with me 

In Hell’s eternal fury 

I can hear the funeral bell toll

There’s nothing like power — you can take my soul 

The horns of goats and the sorrowful knell

I was an angel once, and this is the story of how I fell 

An Optimist in Pieces 


Tattered feather in a gale

Screaming, howling, a mad god’s wail 

I was just a kid on the cusp of something 

Didn’t know that it was nothing 

Dreamy days and wide-eyed nights 

The monsters in my closet weren’t afraid of lights 

Soul-eaters, leaving me physically intact 

shredding hope in their insidious attack

Now I sit here listening to the minutes tick by

Can’t fucking stand the sound, an existential cry 

I wish I knew who I would be

Without all these pieces ripped from me

I’m a phantom and I’m a ghost

Hurting those I love the most 

I’m a wraith and I’m a sneak

(a gentle heart shimmering under tears I won’t weep) 

I wish I could shake your hand and say,

“Hi there, self, it’s nice to meet you today.” 

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