The speaker seems to be describing a shift in how they live in their own body and mind. In the first stanza, the inner critics that once perched on the "forehead's balcony" have stopped watching, judging, or cheering. The imagery is bodily and a little comic, and it suggests, though never says outright, that sexual self-consciousness has loosened its grip.
In place of that scrutiny comes a playful habit of turning words into nouns: "saladness," "doneness," "almosthood." The speaker even feels guilty toward words that have never been "nouned," left to yellow in time's "hot draught." Language becomes something to care for, almost like a neglected friend.
The last stanza widens the mood. The speaker has found "new areas of indifference" and flirts casually with houses, people, and organizations. The tone is wry, relaxed, and slightly melancholy. Freedom and detachment arrive together, and the poem lets us wonder whether that's a gain, a loss, or both.