The Great

This is a conversation.
I am conversating with The Great.
Though I know no perfect talk exists
and if it does I will never talk perfect.
I talk with snow in my mouth.
I talk with snakes in my mouth.
There are many greater mouths than mine.
Can we still be friends?
Volition me to The Great!
I seek in garbage doors.
This strange seeking is not without reason
for The Great has made a million dark and slimy charms.
My palms are full of slimy cargo.
I am carving my way to The Great.
I am carving through my slimy body.
When it breaks The Great floods in.