Poetry: Untitled - A rusty restart and fun with metaphor

Responsibility as curdled milk
left to stand in acid circumstance
till we separate the heavier weight of conscience;
a sense of self-neglect,
floating, semi-solid, in our fluid,
idealized selves,
if only we could scoop away
our disconnection,
purify
and make us stronger.
Alas, no such possibility,
we can only drain away, little
by little
and nothing left but a residue
one might criticize in aging thighs.