God has gone mad!

Overestimating his own longevity, he continued to postpone the well earned day of judgment. And time, in its rightful way of corroding all it dares touch, malformed the entrails of his head. Obsessed and enamored with the mortar of minced meat he created, prolonging it for so long, that the immemorial hair in his endless beards turned sallow and white, like the loose skin of his fingers.
Now decrepit, drunk, tired, and loveless, God has at last succumbed to dementia.

And without sense the world was ruled; Babel returned from the Grave, now with a new tower, and he built it in the first Irish city he found. And seeing the fresh weather of the island, envious and dried by the rotten heat, Mohave stood and settled in the new metropolis.
The lunacies of God brought an erratic chaos to everything, and yet, the transition of reality was so slow, so gentle, so hard to perceive by the nervous system of the world, that no one seemed to notice. Humans in particular didn't seem to manifest suffering from the madness just yet, it seems as if long ago they had forgotten what God was like.

You are a person living in the Irish desert of Mohave, the Red metropolis. Perhaps you were slightly less imbecile, or perhaps God forgot how to be senile while reviewing your file, for one reason or another you are aware that reality has shifted, it's just you can't really recall how things used to be.

In your eyes the terrible memories whisper torments without source. You remember the tower of Babel, God raping Gabriel, you recall everything that is as if it had always been, and yet, you are certain that reality has changed. No one seems to notice that things go from bad to worse, no one seems to care that the world has gone mad, no one cares about the thunder, the illness of forgetting, the wind of madness, no one. Being the only sane one, you become the endeared interest of a lonely and drunken God, wanting someone, anyone, to dare and see him.