Bizzy Bee was told it was born for work. Not because it loved the flowers, but because the hive needed honey. From first flight, it was taught the story: The Queen is everything. She is power. She is choice. She is freedom. Protect her. Feed her. Die for her if asked. So Bizzy worked; worked until his wings frayed, until his body knew the shape of exhaustion better than the sky. Every drop of sweetness made was taken upward, passed along invisible ladders, but, never allowed to climb. The drones admired the Queen from afar. They sang songs about her glory, about how lucky they were to serve something so important. And when one drone was chosen to give his life for her, the hive called it honor. But Bizzy noticed something strange. The Queen never left her chamber. She never touched the sun. She never tasted the honey they bled for her. She laid eggs endlessly, on command, surrounded by guards who called it protection and chains they called tradition. Bizzy realized the truth too late to unlearn it: The Queen was not free. She was a prisoner dressed as a symbol. A body used to justify sacrifice. A crown placed on her head so no one would look at the hands holding it there. The drones were not dying for the Queen. They were dying through her. And the hive thrived on the lie that someone else was in charge. One day, Bizzy stopped flying in circles. But it didn’t sting; didn’t bow. Just spoke. And for the first time, the hive went silent. Because when the worker sees the chains on the throne, the honey stops tasting sweet.

Deeper feels like growth When value points straight downward The canary waits We name cages jobs Paint them clean with numbers The canary stays Progress tastes like dust But shines enough to ignore The canary watches We never ask why The silence keeps spreading out The canary sees By the time we stop The warning feels historical The canary knew We agree to this Without ever speaking it The canary listens Brightness is managed Even warnings need approval The canary knows Exchange replaces breath Time becomes divisible The canary stays We trust the machine Because it never feels fear The canary does Nothing ends at once It just grows uninhabitable The canary knew

there’s two of us, a melded heart, and a burning desire to inspire through art. We own a screen printing business and love to teach the craft to anyone and everyone. Maybe you’re that someone? Join our hive if you enjoy our vibe, the weight of our energy together is the way we thrive.

Do you know the screen printing process? Do you want to learn? This is just one of the many steps needed to print a shirt. Join the hive to learn!