love the metaphor of windows. it's poignant, nicely done.

i like the tinge of madness in this, as you set out from the very beginning a sense of the helpless, unimpeded passage of time. there is some sense of wasted urgency, frenetic activity at attempting to contrive meaning from no meaning, to imprint colour where there is no comprehension of colour in the first place.
it touches the edges of something more.
i do like it as is, but i also think that you could meditate on the interesting issues at hand to bring more depth (not necessarily length, mind you). and yet... i do really like the sparseness of it; there's no good in wasting words, so yes i do like as is. and still there's something more. well that was confusing on my part. i'm not sure i made any sense. no matter.
do continue in such pursuits.

It creates a good image, and I think I might understand what you're trying to say (or I can relate, or something like that). All in all, a great poem.

what I liked the most about this were the thoughts in parentheses, I wish you had taken those and maybe expanded on them a bit... because those are the things that really seem to be in YOUR voice, what you really want to say... and it seems you have interesting things to say...
t.s.

D'you know what, I'm sure I've reviewed you before. ? Yet I find no reviews of mine left here ...

Only one tiny little thing - passers-by, not passer-bys. I like the punctuation of this. It seems something tiny to notice, but that's what I do ... the central metaphor is beautiful. 'Which pique the interest of passers by - nobody seeing on into the inside.' Now, is it a pretty shield to distract them from what's inside? Or one to attract them but they won't go further? Or to satisfy a grotesque sort of vanity? Or just to prevent oneself from slipping right out of everyone's attention? Now you see why I like it.

'... so we run into our rooms ...'

That was clever. I liked that.