Fungus

The fungus began upon my feet,
It spread like wild fire,
It climbed my legs and my knees,
Striving to reach ever higher.
Past my waist and over my chest,
Even past my neck,
Now it has covered me completely,
I say, "What the heck?"
People just stop and stare,
As I walk down the street,
Making jokes about moving moss,
With adjectives I can't repeat.
But at least I can make a killing,
Living life so sublime,
I think I'll join the circus,
And be the living slime.