I'm from the old times when we all used to be one Today we're many and keep distancing from each other What I become endure the invisible lines all over me

I prick the hand that grasps too fast, my name grows shorter when I’m cast from one to many; count me twice, I lose a letter, not my spikes. What am I?

I am five in binary and a laugh in slang. I am how many dogs there were in a well known movie with dogs

I spy the bird up in the tree, or watch a ship sail out at sea. I sit in hand, I point, I peer, distant details now appear near.

I am a short needle, but what you do when you long for something. What am I?