Sally squanders bits of youth on the dance floor
like a tit in a trance, boogying towards death without resistance,
her body quivers and twitches in a lovely meaningless despair,
she is digging for truth. Intangible and eternal.
Her beauty is in the moment; a transient luminiscent energy firing up her atoms in an electric storm.
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the sieve and the sand 
I like it!
This is amazing.
freaky you’re friggin brilliant.
and boogying towards death is probably my favorite string of words ever.
i think i’ll use it for a title for my next poem if i can remember it.