I am empty, but full

Just read it. I had kind of a 'deep thought' moment last night.

I am empty inside but full.
Tonight, as much as I want to just lay this computer down and walk away with nothing to write.
Something pulls me.
I have an urge that tugs at my heart and forces me inside out.
I hate, but I am love.
I rebel, but cooperate with my self.
I want to shout how angry I am for all the country to take notice.
But I want to lie alone and quiet in a tide pool of freshness and zen.
Tonight I suffer with the wanting, the longing, the sensuality that is writing.
The make loveliness of what I feel.
The 'me' that is I.
The 'I' that is every one and every where.
I'm a child, and I need a hug.
I'm a child and need a spank or two.
I'm a woman, I need a hug.
I'm a woman needing as much as I can get.
My body belongs to you.
My mind is for sharing.

There are times more oft than naught that I feel useless. I force things from my brain which at the time cause me to be in awe of who I am or what I have said.

Because, the brain and the tongue cannot seem to catch up to one another.
I am lost.
I am loss.
I am free.
I am at a loss.
I am freed.

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And in conclusion, has anything I've said made sense?
To me, it's beautiful.

Author's Note

I really like this piece. And I rarely say that about my writing. I'm interested in knowing what you all think.