I'm screwed to the wall to hold up a shelf. After all, I can't hold the books all by myself.

I am a place where stories glow and shadows dance upon the wall. I hunger for the fallen branches and speak in crackles soft and small. I turn the chill to gentle calm yet cannot move nor wander far. My breath is bright my heart is red yet ashes mark where I once fed. I live within a home of stone and guard the warmth when nights are cold. What am I that keeps the frost away yet stands unmoved from day to day

Four wheels, wood I boast, Concrete waves my metal friend, Balance, then I roll.

This word holds meaning even when letters are removed - but only one at a time. Full, it is a place to rest. With the second removed, it is how you rest. With the last removed, it becomes somewhere traversed yet not fully explored.

used by mechanics and fourteen doctors too, sonic and flat to describe a few. the first of two joined isn’t new, only just what I’m used to undo. second: you just might curse at me in front of you swerving like I can’t see what am i?