What do you call rubber that is exhausted?

In a glass realm, blobs dance slow, hypnotic and glow; a retro portal to peace, where warmth makes colors flow.

Up a creek of feces without my aid, nautical nonsense ensues until you grasp the handle of this blade.

I sit quietly on your counter, then try to jump-scare you in the morning.

I reach for the sky, yet my feet stay on stone. Born of faith or pride, I stand alone. No leaf, no flame, yet I rise higher What am I, with a name that rhymes with higher?