I have five points like a certain shape I live underwater and not the surface Unlike my name I’m related to sand dollars

I hang on walls yet never fall, I hold no pen, yet schedule all. With numbered teeth I bite each year - Twelve little mouths that disappear.

Last night I laughed, I danced, I stayed, this morning I collect what’s owed and paid. I turn your stomach, dry out your tongue, a pounding headache from when night was young.

What do you call a wedding invitation right after understanding it?

The material between the step of dirt and clay.